The Caged Bird
by RoxxyGirl
Summary: Major Sylvia Monroe is dying. A Needler spike to the gut made sure of that. But maybe, just maybe, she can make it out alive. That is, if her Elite captor is willing to look the other way.
1. Chapter 1

Major Sylvia Monroe curled up behind a boulder, desperately trying to keep her intestines from falling out the hole in her gut. The Needler spike that imbeded itself in her belly had been painful upon entry, her ballistic armor barely doing anything to stop it, and the ensuing explosion had blown a fist sized hole in her, shredding flesh and organ. Blood flowed freely between her fingers, and she was constantly coughing up the stuff, resulting in spasms of pain. Her helmet had fallen off during one of these spasms, and her shoulder length brown hair, which was longer than regulations permitted, was splayed across her face. Most of her squad was dead, their bodies thrown about on the field, some of them in more than one piece.

She cursed herself again. It had been a combination of cowardice, stupidity, and plain bad luck. She had been tasked with something simple. Since the base was short on Drill Seargents, she had been assigned a group of greenhorns and ordered to take them on patrol, show them how a real marine does it. A bunch of pre-pubescent kids straight out of boot, they couldn't tell one end of the gun from the other. They lollygagged and fucked around, teasing each other and staring at her ass without so much as giving a glance to the surroundings. She had finally snapped and told them all off in what her uncle would call "champion cursing", when the racket attracted the attention of a Covenant recon group. They had strayed too far from the main base, and she had been so engrossed in her rant that she didn't realize that they were in the open. Hell, she hadn't even noticed the plasma bolt until it had glanced off her shoulder and melted the face off one of the rookies. It was instant pandemonium.

They had leapt behind a cluster of rocks and boulders, in hopes that they would shelter the group from the hail of plasma. Her armor was melted to her shoulder, and she was sporting a sprained ankle from a bad landing. The squad tried to reorganize themselves, finally figuring out how to use the assault rifles in their hands, and returned fire. It was scattered, and inconsistent, not hitting a damn thing, but served its purpose in keeping the Covenant force at bay. A plasma grenade had landed several meters from their location. While it would burn a bit, they were nowhere close enough to its kill range, but none of the damn rookies knew that. They flipped out, and made a run for it. Every last one of them jumped from the only cover they had in an attempt to get away from the explosive. A perfect flush. The fleeing marines were gunned down as fast as they could pop up. Despite her ankle and smoldering shoulder, Sylvia had jumped from cover herself to grab hold of two idiots and threw them back behind the rocks. There was a flash and she could hear their cries of pain as the heat from the grenade sent bits of molten rock at them. But they would survive.

She was just about to reach the safety of the boulders when she had felt it. There was a whir as the weapon discharged its load at the rocks, spraying the entire area with pink crystals. She felt one of the spikes fly through her body armor and penetrate her stomach. Her knees nearly gave out, but she had managed to make it back with the assistance of one of the marines. The two of them argued about what to do about the crystal, but a few seconds later, it had detonated. She wasn't even able to distinguish her own voice as she howled in pain. This was too much for the pair of newbies. Staying close to the ground, they slowly slunk off, abandoning her as she slipped into shock.

And so here she was. She didn't know if the two of them had survived, and at this point, she didn't really care. If they survived, and if she survived, she would personally make sure they got court martialled. Sylvia winced as the wound twinged. Her breath was ragged, and the fact that the hole was beginning to hurt less couldn't mean anything good. She began to feel light headed as her vision faded in and out. The air shimmered in front of her and she focused on the pair of Sangheili legs that materialized in front of her. The digitigrade legs were clad in black special forces armor and there was a glow from the energy sword as it activated.

A large hand grabbed her by her head and lifted her into the air. Sylvia felt her neck pop as she stared the Elite in the eyes. She kept her hands stubbornly over her stomach, but she could feel the blood seeping into her clothes. The monster seemed to observe her curiously, looking at her face, then her wound, and finally her eyes. She mustered all the strength she could and glared at her foe. The Elite let out a low chuckle and poised to run her through with the melee weapon. With a surge of adrenaline, she grabbed its arms with both hands and lifted her body. She could feel her insides shifting and something that was probably important seemed to fall out. But there was no other choice at this point of time. She smashed her boot into the alien's face, and it promptly dropped her, more out of suprise than pain. She fell from three feet in the air, and landed on her already damaged shoulder, but even so, Sylvia rolled onto her feet, clamped her hands over what remained of her stomach, and took off sprinting. She got maybe twenty meters away when there was a sharp retort. Her left knee buckled as a slug entered the back of her thigh and exited the front, and she fell on her face. The Elite walked over to her collapsed body, almost passively, gingerly holding her heaviliy modified M6F pistol with mild disgust. It dropped the weapon as it reached the gasping woman, and flipped her over.

"You are rather interesting, human."

........

Vites 'Therammee watched as the small human girl limped away after she kicked him in the face. His shields had absorbed the brunt of the blow, and in fact, were in perfect condition. But the action was suprising. Most humans would cry and beg for their lives, screaming for mercy. Others would accept their fate quietly, closing their eyes in a calm, almost dignified manner. The latter were honored with the blade, being swiftly executed in a manner befitting them. But this one, a female nonetheless, fought back. Despite her fatal wound, she put herself through tremendous pain in order to escape.

Vites smiled to himself. He had always been a collector of sorts. A strange habit among the Sangheili, but not too uncommon. And his immense skills more than made up for his unusual habits. His talents were often sought through the Covenant heirarchy. They would seek him out and offer him the most dangerous and deadly assignments. Which he gladly accepted. He would infiltrate and annihalate human establishments, collecting articles and exotic items as he went. Then he would reap the rewards that came with such honorable missions.

This mission was to be no different. As a personal favor to his friend and brother, he had boarded the _Judgement_ and was dropped off on this desolate rock of a planet. There were multiple human military bases here, and he was to locate their exact locations and any other information that would be useful. Then he would lead the attack on them, wiping another speck of the scourge known as humanity from the universe. He had been on the planet no more than half a cycle when he had stumbled upon the woman screaming at her comrades for incompetance. Standing clear as day in the field, Vites almost considered simply letting them get to a better defended location, just for the challenge. But one of the Unggoy accompanying him, the stupid little worm he is, discharged his weapon at the humans. To his credit, at least the Unggoy managed to kill one of the humans, although it was not the one he was aiming at. If he didn't Vites would have killed him on the spot. The ensuing firefight was easy, and the humans were quickly annihalated, running from their one source of protection and scurrying out into the no man's land.

Vites decided to let the Unggoy and his companions melt the rocks, he would take a simpler route. He had activated his cloaking device and walked around the stones, to find only the human female left, her companions having either fled the scene, or died. He almost pitied the creature as she lay there, whimpering and clutching her abdomen. One glance and he could tell that the wound would be fatal, if it were not treated. But when he had grabbed the woman, she had glared at him with the fury of a thousand suns. She had suprising energy for one so close to death. More than he had thought. She managed to avoid his blade with a twist of her body, and the shock that she would even be able to move made him drop her. The boot slamming against his shield did nothing to help his confusion. By the time he was fully aware of what had happened, the human was already on her feet, running for her life.

A futile effort. Vites raised his plasma rifle, aiming at the small of her back. But he reconsidered. This human was strange, unusual, exotic. And he liked strange things. Something in the ground caught his eye. A human weapon, he realized. The woman, or one of her companions, must have dropped it earlier. It would be more suitable for this situation than his plasma weapon. The gun was uncomfortably small in his hand, and the sights were unusual. But he had fired human weapons before, much to his distaste, and he knew how to operate them. He took aim at one of her legs and fired. The gun kicked back with suprising force, and he watched the girl fall. He leisurely approuched the woman, and dropped the weapon, opting to flip the woman on her back so he could look her in the eye again. She glared at him through hazy eyes, and Vites chuckled to himself. Quite a fine specimen of human ability.

"You are rather interesting, human." he whispered, the language diffucult to pronounce. But she understood him. He watched with satisfaction as her eyes widened and she attempted to spit at him. He signaled one of his squad over, summoning the Unggoy who originally started the firefight. It scampered over and bowed its head repectfully.

"How may I assist you, you're Excellency?" it questioned in its squeaky voice. It seemed to shrink as the Sangheili warrior glared at the back of his lowered skull.

"Tend to her wounds and bring her." Vites stated, turning away. "I will not give her the pleasure of escaping me through death." He walked towards the forest and activated his camoflauge.

"B-but she is human!" the Unggoy quibbled. "She is a human! T-the Shipmaster will surely object!"

"Do as you are told, fool." The air whispered. "Or would you rather face my blade?" The leaves rustled as a wind blew through. "I will deal with the Shipmaster. But if she dies, it will be your head, Grunt." The human derogatory term used on his race made the Unggoy tremble with anger. But he knew full well what would happen should he anger the warrior. He glanced down helplessly at the dying woman's wound and shook his head sadly, motioning some other Unggoy to come assist him. This would be difficult work.


	2. Chapter 2

Yipip paced the halls impatiently. His hands were clumsy, and he feared that he had done more damage than good when he bandaged the human female. Her wounds were grave, and she was already dying when he had been ordered to bring her back alive. He and three of his companions had half carried, half dragged the woman on board of the _Judgment_, and he immediately seeked out the assistance of a healer. The doctor, a fellow Unggoy, looked at the wound and pronounced it impossible, only changing his mind when Yipip literally collapsed and begged him to treat her. Even then, he had to request the assistance of several other healers, and even of a Huragok. How he had managed to convince the strange floating being into helping him was still something Yipip did not know. But they had been in the medical bay for a very long time now, which is rare, considering that it was almost never used. Mainly because there were almost no wounded Unggoy on board. Most injured in battle were dead, or left to die. Few made it back to the ship. But now, it was a hubbub as they operated on the gaping hole in the human. There were several other wounds on her, but the Needler wound was of greatest priority.

He heard a bloodcurdling scream come from the surgery room, and rushed in. The woman lay on the operation table, screaming and thrashing as the Huragok literally put her insides back together. The healers were frantically running around, confused by what was going on. "What's going on! What's going on!" Yipip yelled, grabbing one of the assistant doctors.

"Huragok no put sleep medicine! Human girl wake up and hurt! Need sleep medicine!" The Huragok didn't seem to understand to concept of sedatives, and had begun the surgery without them. Too bad for the woman, she regained consciousness in the middle of it all. The Huragok calmly wrapped its tentacles around her limbs and restrained her, continuing the surgery, even as she slipped into shock.

"No! NO!" Yipip grabbed the nearest blunt object and smashed the woman in the head. Instantly, she fell limp, and for a second, Yipip thought he had killed her. But the steady rise and fall of her chest convinced him otherwise. The Huragok glanced at the new head wound with mild interest, and resumed the operation, quickly and carefully rearranging and fixing her insides, occasionally pulling out a sliver of the Needler shard. By the time that the Unggoy doctors had injected her with sedatives, it had already begun stitching her stomach shut. It picked up a plasma cutter and almost started trying to weld her shut when Yipip wrestled the power tool from its grasp.

"Human must live!" He gasped. "Leader order human to live, so human must live!" The last time he had checked, plasma cutter's were good for fixing machines, not biological beings. Couldn't quite blame the Huragok though, it was probably its first time working on a living creature instead of a machine, and humans were rather delicate to start with. The Huragok stared at Yipip through its six beady eyes, and simply shifted its attention to the woman's shoulder. Yipip let out a sigh of relief and glanced back at the wound on her stomach. The tissue was stretched and scarred, the stitches crisscrossing her abdomen. He could see that pieces of artificially reproduced flesh had been used to imitate parts of her body. Her breathing was returning to normal, and the Unggoy healers had begun work on the bullet wound on her leg.

The female had been stripped to the best of their ability, since the armor hindered their ability to operate, all except for the stubborn spaulders, which had fused with her shoulder. As he walked by the doctors working on the leg, he saw that the thigh was pale and slightly pink. Compared to his dark blue and scaly skin, her skin seemed soft and flawless. He reached out and poked the human, and was shocked by how the skin and muscle easily caved to the pressure, like a pillow would. But he knew they were stronger than they looked. This human managed to kick the Special Forces operative before trying to escape, which means she had quite a bit of strength. He poked his own leg, the scratchy and armored hide was very different. He reached out to touch the female again, but was quickly ushered from the room. Now that the crisis was over, he was nothing but a nuisance.

The door closed behind him and Yipip huffed out his chest indignantly. If it weren't for him, the patient would have died, they should treat him with more respect. But he shuddered at the thought. If he hadn't saved the human, it would be his life, not theirs. Once again, Yipip cursed his assignment. He cursed Vitas 'Therammee for placing the girl under his care. And he cursed the woman, for her existence was the cause of all his current sufferings.

......

Sylvia Monroe opened her eyes to the comforting darkness of night. A second glance told her otherwise. She was in the med bay of what appeared to be an UNSC ship, it was too dark to tell. The lights were off, and the curtains were closed, and she was grateful for it. She lay there for a moment, thinking. She knew that she had been shot by the Covenant at least three times, but she couldn't remember who saved her. The Elite looked just about ready to finish her off, when it seemed to be called away, and decided to let a Grunt eliminate her. He heard them talking in their alien language, but quickly passed out. Which means that someone had saved her almost immediately after that, or she wouldn't be alive. The rookies that got away probably managed to radio in help or something.

Suddenly, she realized she was very thirsty. Her throat burned and her tongue was dry and stuck to the top of her mouth. While her wounds still stung, they had been treated with professional care, top of the line doctors, from the look of it. So she tried to sit up, only to discover that she couldn't. She glanced at her wrists and noticed that they were strapped to the bed. So were her ankles. Not to a standard UNSC medical bed either, but more of a table. Confused, she called out. Her voice was dry and raspy, but her calls slowly gained strength. The lights flashed on, blinding her, and she could hear hurried footsteps as someone padded over to her.

"Doc...water..." she moaned, trying to block out the light with her restrained hands. "I need water..." The footsteps hurried away, and soon returned, accompanied by the seductive sloshing of liquid in a bucket. She heard the water being poured into a cup, and lifted her head eagerly. Someone put the cup to her lips, and she drank greedily, slurping down the delicious water as fast as she could. But it was empty too soon.

"More." She croaked, and the cup was refilled. She continued to drink, feeling the water slip down her throat and into her stomach. Her newly repaired stomach. She smiled contentedly as she savored the moment. Her eyes were slowly adjusting to the light, and although she still couldn't quite make him out, the doctor must have been quite short, as he had to clamber down from the table in order to refill her cup. She heard a hiss as a door opened, and heavy footsteps entered. The man must have been huge, and his shadow loomed over the entire table. Sylvia squinted, trying to get a good look at the man's face, when she heard a dreadful voice.

"It seems you have survived, human." Her eyes snapped open and she fought past the glaring light to stare the armored face of the Elite. It was huge, even by Sangheili standards, a giant nearing three meters tall. It's muscular body was clad in black armor, and its beady eyes were as black as the void outside. She heard the doctor scampering away, and looked down in time to see small Grunt run out of the room. Suddenly she felt sick. The sweet water that she had so eagerly consumed earlier now felt like poison in her stomach. She was on a Covenant ship. From the looks of it, they had captured her, treated her, and even watered her, something that her pride refused to admit. Death would have been better.

"You!" she spat. "Why didn't you kill me?" The Elite simply watched her, amused. She felt her anger rising, and struggled with her restraints.

"I have many reasons to keep you alive, human." The Elite approached the table. "But if I had to pick one, it would be out of curiosity." It narrowed its eyes, and the corners of its mouth seemed to twitch up into a smirk. "That is why I had you brought here and treated you." It stopped next to her table, looking down at her face. "So I could watch how you would squirm." It let out a guttural laugh as her face paled.

"You sick son of a bitch." Sylvia watched as the Elite stood there, taunting her. There was a small table with strange tools on it, and while she couldn't quite figure out what they did, any one of them could probably inflict some damage. "Why don't we just see about that." The tips of her fingers teased a tool into her her hand, and she flicked it towards the alien. It snatched the item out of the air, and seemed to marvel it. It mumbled something to itself, and turned its attention back to her.

"The Unggoy will return shortly to feed you and tend to your wounds. I suggest you save your energy until then." The Elite turned and walked towards the door. It stopped at the exit and lazily waved its hand in the air. "Perhaps you can convince one to release your binds. The Unggoy are quite easy to persuade." With that, it briskly walked out and disappeared, leaving Sylvia fuming.

.....

Vitas 'Therammee strode down the hall, chuckling to himself. The human woman was still quite alive, and very lively. She had thrown a syringe full of sedatives at his face with quite a bit of force, even though she clearly had no idea what it was. He entered his private chambers and secured the door. No one would enter without his consent. He walked over to the protective case, and deactivated the shield, revealing the woman's primitive armor and weaponry. Badly scuffed and dirtied, he had amused himself for the past couple cycles by assembling and cleaning the damaged suit. He reached into his pouch and withdrew a charred piece of the shoulder spaulder.

The Unggoy, Yipip, had melted this particular piece of armor to the woman's shoulder, resulting in the healers having to cut around it before they could remove it. His previous trip had been to retrieve this piece, although the fact that the woman was alive was surprisingly pleasing. He observed the piece closely and walked over to a container, pulling out a ragged piece of cloth. He cocked his head quizzically thinking over how he should go about this. The shoulder piece was burnt beyond recognition, and it would take a long time to restore it, but that was the fun of it all. Vites smiled to himself, and settled in to work on his new toy.

…...

Sylvia lay there as an Engineer probed her wounds. She hissed in pain as one of the tentacles brushed her stomach. The Engineer swung its head around slowly and observed her reaction. It watched her curiously, and promptly lost interest as it moved its attention back to her body.

She tested the restraints again, to no avail. She was locked down tight, and wouldn't be getting out anytime soon without assistance. She glanced at the Grunt sitting in the corner of the room, busying itself with what seemed to be a tube of toothpaste. That smelled as if it had been sitting out in the sun for a month. She heard the smacking of its lips and small grunts and realized that the damn thing was eating whatever was in the tube. The thought of it made her slightly sick.

MRE's, Meals Ready to Eat, were always pretty bad. Some were okay, some were horrible, and some were down right nasty, but this was a new level of absolutely disgusting. But from the way the Grunt was wolfing it down, it probably tasted like chicken to them. Which lead her to think, how was the Grunt eating through the mask anyways? She watched as it lifted its arms to its face again, slightly craning her head in an attempt to look around its huge meth pack. She was so engrossed with watching the creature, she didn't even notice the Engineer finish. It floated over to the Grunt and prodded it with a tentacle. The Grunt squeaked and jumped with surprise, dropping its half eaten tube of crap and whirling around. The Engineer simply looked back at her, and bobbed out of the room.

The Grunt picked up the tube and waddled over to her, muttering in its own alien language. It clambered up a stool and looked down at her, glaring at her through it's beady little eyes. It took the tube and shoved it in her face.

"You eat. Human must eat." it squealed in choppy English as it tried to force the tube in her mouth. The smell was nauseating, and Sylvia could feel her face turn green.

"Oh, hell no." She snarled, and pointed her nose away from the substance. The Grunt persistently prodded her face with the tube, leaving small trails of saliva and gunk on her cheeks. She shuddered at the touch, and felt incredibly disgusted. Suddenly, she found the tube between her lips, and the contents in her mouth. She tried to spit it out, but found a pair of large scaly hands covering her mouth. Her body convulsed as her stomach and throat rejected the substance, the taste brought tears to her eyes. She jerked and pulled at her restraints, and her head felt dizzy. Finally, the hands were gone. Instantly, she rolled her head to the other side, and threw up. She lay there, panting after the ordeal, still spitting the taste from her mouth.

The Grunt had scampered away, and now returned with a soft pouch with a nozzle. It gave off no smell, but Sylvia wasn't about to take any chances. She clenched her teeth and tried to face away from it again, well aware that now her table reeked of undigested alien junk food.

"Water." the Grunt piped, mimicking her cries earlier. It thrust the pouch at her. "Water." it repeated. It squeezed the pouch, and a trickle of water squirted out from the nozzle. Sylvia glanced at the offered pouch, contemplating whether or not it was a trap. She didn't want to go through the tube incident again, but her throat was parched, and the taste was still there. Finally, against her better judgment, she leaned her head up and bit down on the nozzle. The water was refreshing, and she gulped it down. She drank her fill, and looked away. The Grunt picked up the hint, and put down the water.

It fumbled with something on the table, and came away with a rag. It roughly wiped the rejected food off her face and table, dumping it into a pail. It picked up the pail and waddled out the door, sparing her a backward glance as it exited. She could hear it squeaking and barking, followed by yelps from other Grunts. Her stomach growled loudly. Despite her earlier protests, she was very, very hungry. The water managed to quench her hunger momentarily, but it would be back soon, roaring and demanding. She sighed, and tried to make herself as comfortable as possible.

"This place sucks..."

…...

AN: Hihi! I'm back! 3 First of all, I feel I owe everyone an apology. (Bows) My other stories remain completely un-updated, something that I feel I should be fixing. I leave many people waiting for months on end, and in the case of some of my older stories, years . For those of you who are new to my little fantasy land, I'll go ahead apologize now. (Bows again) This story will probably be updated a little more constantly for a while, as it is now my new focus, but knowing my attention span, it'll reach around chapter 5 or 6 before I shift back to my other stories. Or my life. I don't know which is more important. Work sucks. Relationships suck. And both are a major factor in eating up my time. Oh well. So....let the flaming begin!


	3. Chapter 3

Vites 'Therammee placed the finishing touches to the shoulder plate. He brought the spaulder to eye level and studied the olive green armor carefully. The originally burnt piece was now polished and restored, after much hard work. He tossed the rag back into the cabinet it came from, and walked over to the suit of human armor resting on its stand. He took the chest piece down from its support, and turned it over, fitting the piece back in, where it balanced precariously in its perfect fit.

He set about to meld the piece back in place, when there was a knock on his door. He walked over and typed a code into the holo-panel, deactivating the locks and opening the doors to his private chambers. Fleet Master S'raph Lok'Tumee stood at the entrance, respectfully waiting to be invited in. Vites motioned his friend and superior into his chambers, and glanced around outside the hall before closing the door again. S'raph remained standing as Vites strode to a crate and sat down.

"Sit where you wish, my brother." he said, gesturing the sole chair in the room. S'raph slowly made his way, and let out a long sigh as he sat down.

"You voice your age, Fleet Master." Vites teased, "What concerns you?" S'raph glanced over at him with a weary eye.

"That would be you, young one." S'raph, a life long friend of Vites, was not one who would question his friends unusual and eccentric behavior without good reason. Vites remained silent, waiting for him to continue. "I hear you have brought a human aboard the _Judgment_."

Vites nodded slowly, knowing where the conversation was headed. "The Ship Master disapproves her presence, I take it."

"Were it so simple..." S'raph brushed an invisible piece of dust from his gold plated armor. "The Ship Master disapproves all humans, with good reason. However, having one aboard his ship, no, having one _saved_ aboard his ship, treads close to heresy." He looked Vites in the eyes, his own shimmering with worry. "I have held him at bay, for now. But it will not be long before he looks deeper into this issue himself." He leaned in, clasping his hands in thought. "Tell me, little one, what are you thinking?"

Vites shrugged. "You and I both know of my unusual quirks." He looked at the armor in its protective case. S'raph followed his gaze, noticing the UNSC insignia. He stood and walked over to it, observing the details.

"Another relic for your collection, I take it?" S'raph circled the armor, taking it all in. Vites strode over and deactivated the shield. "May I?" S'raph motioned at the helmet on the stand. Vites nodded, and S'raph removed it, looking at the primitive technology. "You're quirks are something I can handle. They consist of nothing but battlefield spoils, a right any warrior may exercise." He turned the helmet over in his hand, running a long finger along the rim. " But this human still breathes. It consumes our rations and medicine, taking up space." He placed the helmet back into the case. "Without a proper reason, the Ship Master will eventually have her executed." He turned and stared Vites in the eye. "Along with you."

Vites solemnly nodded. It would be a huge dishonor to bring a burden aboard the ship, and saving an enemy borderlines treason. It would not be surprising if the Ship Master requested a punishment be delivered. He would have to either come up with a suitable reason, or slit her throat. Then a thought occurred to him.

"The humans..." He began, "They have begun a new ceremony of wiping their databanks before each battle, correct?" S'raph nodded.

"It appears to be a precaution to keep us from discovering more worlds, a wise tactic." S'raph glanced at Vites curiously. "Why?"

"If my memory serves, this human holds a rank, much like that of an Ultra or Major. When we first came upon her, she was disciplining several human warriors. Perhaps she can be of assistance. With proper motivation, of course."

"True..." S'raph mused, "But human memory is as sly as it is unreliable. What makes you believe she will tell us what we wish to know?"

"Perhaps she cannot." S'raph looked up in surprise, and tried to object, but Vites overrode him. "But she may be able to tell us who can." Vites spoke quickly, warming up to the idea. "Unlike the foot soldiers, she most likely takes a position in strategic meetings. She will know other human leaders, who will in turn, know vital information."

"I see..." "S'raph stood up, slowly stretching his body. "I will bring that into light, perhaps we have some use for her after all." Vites stood, walking his friend to the exit. S'raph paused at the doorway and extended his hand. Vites looked at it, mildly surprised. "A human gesture, I believe." S'raph said with a smile. Vites laughed and reached out, clasping his friends hand in his own.

"Careful, friend." he chuckled, "You tread close to heresy."

…...

Yipip peered around the corner of the hallway. Fleet Master S'raph Lok'Tumee was scary. Very very very very scary. The fact that he had embraced the psycho Spec Ops soldier only made him more terrifying. The little Unggoy tried his best to hug himself to the wall as the Sangheili commander walked by. He saw the Fleet Master spare him a glance as he walked by, and he felt his heart leap into his throat. As soon as the Sangheili was out of sight, Yipip scurried around the corner up to Vites 'Therammee's door. He paused as he stared at the entrance, unsure how to proceed. He was technically not allowed to disturb the highly honored warriors, as his race was of such a low status.

Yipip growled angrily at the thought of the caste system. His race was just as honorable as any other race in the Covenant, they were simply less powerful. The Sangheili were bloodthirsty barbarians who just liked to kill things. Well, if this so called "honorable warrior" wanted his little human to live, he would have to put up with a little disrespect.

Determined, Yipip pounded on the door, only to fall back in surprise as it immediately opened. Vites 'Therammee was huge. Ridiculously huge, even by Sangheili standards. His intimidating black armor seemed to be one with him, and he glared down at the cowering Unggoy with empty eyes.

"What have you to say to me, Unggoy." He rumbled, his voice deep and low. His hand was by his side, and Yipip could only imagine that he was reaching for his plasma pistol.

"I-it's the human, your Excellency!" He squeaked, forgetting all earlier indignation. Honor be damned, this was his life on the line. "The human, she refuses her meals! Has been long time and she no eat!"

Yipip expected the Sangheili to be indifferent. Or even angry. He did seem like the type to lose control with little provocation. He had expected the larger alien to either dismiss his concerns, or shoot him. But instead, Vites laughed. His teeth shone in contrast to his armor, making them seem whiter and sharper than ever, even more dangerous.

"Does she now?" he snickered. Yipip suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable, not that he felt at home in the first place. "Very well, take me to her." He turned around and went into his chambers, leaving Yipip extremely confused. Did he want to go see the human, or not?

Yipip was still thinking over his course of action, when the doors reopened, and the warrior came out, clutching something in his hand. He looked down at Yipip, and motioned for him to lead. He walked with large steps, forcing Yipip to occasionally run in order to keep up. Yipip grumbled under his breath. The damn Sangheili knew the way to the med bay well enough, why must he be accompanied?

Still, he was curious about what was in the large hand. He glanced at the object multiple times, trying to get a good look at it. It was a brown square package. Small, and seemed too weak to carry weapons. There were a series of strange marks on it, ranging in size, and incredibly familiar. It was the language of the humans, Yipip realized. Whatever this package was, it was of human origin. The humans had small weapons that were rather light, perhaps it held one of those. But for what purpose would Vites 'Therammee arm a human?

Yipip yelped as he walked into the back of the Sangehili's legs. The hardened leg muscles had forced his re-breather into his cheeks, which Yipip now vigorously rubbed. He looked up, hands still rubbing his face, as the Spec Ops commando spoke.

"Go. Retrieve some rations designated for the Kig-Yar. Fresh ones. Then return here and wait outside until I summon you." Yipip ran the instructions through his mind and lowered his head. He turned and scampered towards the storage bay. It seems he would live to see another day.

…...

Sylvia Monroe was resting her eyes when she heard the door open. Wary that it might be the abusive Grunt coming to try and force feed her again, she glanced towards the entrance. Her heart raced as she saw who it was. The Elite was back again. It looked right at her for a few moments, looking over her bare body, before it lumbered to a chair at the foot of her table, where it plopped down and watched her. She waited for its snide remarks, for it to taunt her and tell her how helpless she was. She had already started a list of rebukes when she heard paper tearing.

She glanced up at the Elite, and watched it rip the cover off a small box, little pieces of dark brown confetti fluttering as he tore it to pieces. There was a crackle, like a twig broke, and the Elite began munching on the contents, keeping the package out of her vision. A familiar aroma drifted over, light, sweet, and alluring. It was chocolate.

The asshole of an Elite was eating chocolate, something she didn't even knew that they liked, and she was on the table half starved. Sylvia looked away, her stomach grumbling. She personally loved chocolate, something she tried to keep a secret at the base. No bad ass Marine Major was supposed to flip out over sugar. She occasionally smuggled a couple pieces on her food tray, keeping it hidden under her napkin, and ate them when no one was looking, or better yet, in her own room, where she could enjoy the sweet to the max. And from the rich scent it as giving off, the Elite had some of the good stuff.

There was another hiss as the door opened, and the Grunt she had been in the care of hobbled back in, bringing what appeared to be large chunks of shriveled pigskin. It dropped the item on the table and proceeded to tear it into chunks, in an attempt to feed her again. It was more appealing the the tube of crap previously offered, but she still wasn't going to touch it. It was Covenant food. She turned away from the Grunt, who squeaked with annoyance.

"Eat, human." A low rumble whispered from the seated Elite. "And perhaps you will be rewarded, like a good little dog." It waved the other half of the chocolate seductively, and Sylvia felt her stomach growl again. She went over her options. She could either sit here and starve to death, which seemed somewhat appealing, or she could cave and eat, and earn a bar of chocolate at the same time, which also seemed appealing. But there was one problem. The Elite had called her a dog, and her pride wouldn't allow that. To take the chocolate would mean to submit to the bastard.

Reluctantly, she closed her eyes, and refused to look at the Elite, the Grunt, or the chocolate. Silently, she counted the time pass. The Elite was perfectly content with sitting there, watching her. The Grunt had given up trying to force food into her mouth, and was simply standing by her table, exasperated. Minutes went by, and then hours. Her hunger made her lightheaded and weak. At this rate, instinct would take over, and she would cave.

Suddenly, the Elite rose from its chair. It mumbled something to the Grunt, and simply left. Probably the strangest conclusion to a conflict with the Covenant, but she'd take it. She felt the Grunt poke her in the back of her head, and she turned over, biting into the pink, dried flesh. She hurriedly chewed, ignoring the foul taste, and swallowed, her throat and stomach giving less resistance than she would have liked. She tore into the jerky until the entire slab of it was gone, and washed away the taste with a swig of water. She felt something brush her face, and something popped into her mouth. The sweet taste of the chocolate surprised her, and she accidentally swallowed.

"Very good, human." A voice purred. The Elite rematerialized next to her, its armor still flaring as the cloaking system deactivated. "Most would have surrendered long ago, but you managed to persevere. At least, for a while." It chuckled darkly and dropped the remainder of the chocolate on the table, next to a gaping Grunt, who seemed to have been just as unaware of his presence as she was. "I hope you enjoyed your reward." It laughed as it exited the room. Sylvia looked at the sweet, and felt sick to the core.

"Fuck me..."

…....

Yipip let out a sigh of relief as he sat in the corner of the med bay. It seemed the Sangheili was not a muscle bound idiot. After all, it had convinced the human girl to eat. Nearly three cycles ago, the woman still refused her meals, but after it had been brought to 'Therammee's attention, he had managed to bribe her into eating with small brown squares.

The next cycle, Yipip had attempted a similar trick, offering the brown square first, in hopes of softening her up. But the human had refused, facing the other way once again. His hopes were dashed, and he almost went to retrieve Vites from his room, but as he was about to leave, the human had demanded food. Yipip found Kig-Yar food disgusting, the rations were made from the flesh of a fatty animal found native to their home world. But it was highly nutritious, even more so than the nutrient paste that he ate on a daily basis. The human ate the rations, and always drank a lot of water immediately afterward. But she refused the brown squares, whether it was before or after the meal. Strange, seeing how she seemed to long for it when the Sangheili first brought it.

Out of curiosity, Yipip secretly broke off a piece of the small object, and briefly removed his methane mask in order to ingest it. It was brittle at first, but soon became soft and warm, and was unbelievably sweet, almost too much for him to handle. But it tasted good.

It was foreign, true, and it had given him some minor stomach issues later on, but well worth it. Other Unggoy would have scolded him for such reckless actions such as eating the human food. With such different anatomy's, it could have just as easily been poisonous.

Yipip snapped back to reality as the human shuffled uncomfortably. Bored, he waddled over to her, and saw blood on the table. The humans wrist's were raw and bleeding, the restraints were too tight, and had been on far too long. It wasn't life threatening, but it would be better to treat the wound. He walked over to a cabinet, and it opened automatically as it sensed his presence. He pulled out a can of spray and went back to the table. The medical spray was only for minor wounds, disinfecting them and quadrupling the damaged areas recovery rate.

He yanked at the leather restraint on one of her wrists, and managed to get her hand out of it. Almost instantly, her hand shot out and pulled off his mask. Yipip struggled as he gasped for breath, clawing for his re-breather. Black spots floated in his vision as his body was deprived of methane. And just as fast as it came off, his re-breather was back on. He gasped for breath, clutching his mask as the human's arm lazily drifted back to her side. Her eyes looked into his, but without any of its usual fire. She turned her head away from him, a habit of hers that he was accustomed to.

He quickly strapped her arm back down, shaken from the earlier incident. The human hiccuped softly, and her body shook with each breath. She was crying.

…....

Sergeant Oat Lee sat in his cell, resting his head on his arms. The Insurrectionist's weren't the nicest of people, and after many ours of interrogation, and some less enjoyable experiences, he was rather tired. Lee wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out. While he didn't know much about the UNSC's secret workings, he knew enough, and it didn't seem as if though the rebels would listen to his hasty denials anytime soon.

The door to the prison hissed open, but the Sergeant didn't bother opening his eyes. It had been the same routine for the most part for the last few weeks. He would wake up, get dragged to interrogation, get thrown back in the cell, and be feed. The guards would switch every three hours, on the hour, every day. Since he had already been fed, it could only mean that it was time to switch shifts.

He listened to their small talk, hoping to pick up something of his fate, but ended up with only chatter about the weather. Hardly entertaining. He sighed and blocked out the rest of the conversation.

Suddenly, there was a small puff, like a dart being blown from a pipe. Three puffs, and one of the guards gave a small groan, and keeled over, dead in a pool of his own blood. The second guard wiped the blood from his silenced pistol, and approached the cell.

"About damn time you guys came for me." Oat grinned, and stood up from his spot. He gripped the cell bars, eager to finally be free from his imprisonment. "Hurry up and get me the fuck out of here. I never want to see another jail cell again."

"The cell uses a password only known by your guards." His savior said quietly. "One which I do not possess."

"Oh...well shit." Oat frowned, furrowing his brow in concentration. "Well, there should be like four other guards, just beat it out of the next one to come in. I can wait a bit more."

"I'm afraid that isn't an option, Sergeant." The man glanced at his watch, his electric blue eyes darted around the room. "I can not risk being compromised at this point, my ability to leave unscathed requires that I not be detected at all costs. The rebels can not know I exist."

"Well, then just blow this cell open so we can haul ass!" Oat snarled. The other man simply shook his head.

"My apologies." His blue eyes locked with Oat's light brown ones. "It has been an honor to have met you, Sergeant." He raised his pistol to the Sergeant Oat Lee's forehead. "But I'm afraid this is where we part."

The pistol coughed, and the now dead Sergeant crumpled to the ground. The man swept the room with his eyes, and quickly pulled a makeshift shiv from his pocket, wiping it clean of fingerprints. He rolled the dead guard over, and stabbed him in one of his kidneys, leaving the blade imbedded there. He pulled the guards gun out of its holster, and wrapped the Sergeant's still warm hands around it before gingerly replacing it into it's owners hands.

He stood up, wiping his hands clean, and observed his work. He walked outside and closed the door, walking towards the nearest airport. He shed the guards uniform and cap, revealing a tassel of dirty blonde hair, and a rather average build. He stopped at the ticket counter to chat up the lady manning the station.

"Where are you headed handsome?" She giggled, as he fingered a lock of her hair.

"Oh, just somewhere south, I suppose. Take a little time off, then maybe head off planet." He drawled.

"Tough time at work, I'm guessing." He made a face, which made the ticket girl giggle again.

"You know it, got time off a few days back, figured I may as well take this chance to do some soul searching." He lifted her chin with his finger, making her blush. "Why don't you join me before I head off on my next job?"

"What do you do for a living?" She questioned curiously.

"Oh, mostly animals. I take care of rats and what not, pest control really."

…...

Dun Dun Dun!!! Okay, I don't know how much longer my attention span will allow me to work on this project, but I promise I'll try my best. I had a bit of a block halfway through this chapter, so it may seem a bit awkward, I may or may not come back to fix it. I've already started working on the next chapter, although my conscience is bugging me to go work on some of my other pieces, which I sorely want to do, but never seem to get around to. So, read and review! Helps keep me motivated.


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